On the Navajo Nation, kids with the most severe developmental disabilities attend a school called Saint Michael’s Association for Special Education.
Dameon David, 8, is waking up from a nap in his classroom. He has come to the school in northeastern Arizona for four years. He has cerebral palsy, seizures and scoliosis. His mom, Felencia Woodie, picks him up from a bed with Superman sheets.
“Other schools that he was going to go to, they didn’t have the nursing staff or the equipment he goes in, or the trained staff that they have here to do his suctioning, his feeding and his medications daily,” she says.
Woodie, who also works at Saint Michael’s, says the only problem with the school is its water.
“It has a certain stench to it. Sometimes you’ll smell … kinda like a egg smell,” Woodie says. “Sometimes it’s yellow, brown, or even we’ve seen black.”
Bokuto and Hinata’s relationship is honestly so cute. Hinata was all small and nervous getting bumped around by tall kids who are at nationals. Then there is Bokuto, one of the top aces, comes up and calls him his number one disciple.
Then for Hinata has endless admiration for Bokuto. Even though others sometimes see Bokuto’s antics as ridiculous, Hinata thinks he’s the coolest most amazing guy ever.
Hinata is literally always sparkling and in awe of Bokuto…
For now I am in Whakapapa Village (pronounced Fahka-papa, not even kidding) in Tongariro National Park, NZs oldest NP, located in the central plateau of the North Island. The landscape here is dominated by three active volcanoes Tongariro, Ngauruhoe (aka Mt Doom) and Ruapehu, the tallest volcano in NZ. Tomorrow I will tackle the Tongariro Northern Circuit, a 43-km track. I’ll spend four nights and five days on the trail, wish me luck!
Missing scene: Maggie and James being badasses and saving people
She’s stepped over the body of a dead officer – killed right in front of her eyes.
She knows his kids.
She knows his mother.
She’ll wind up being the one to knock on her mother’s door and tell her that her son died protecting her. Protecting all of them.
She knows his kids, and she knows his mother, and she stepped over his body and took his gun and shot to kill.
She’d fought her way to the bar.
Fought her way past streams of high school kids that she guided into a hidden basement, using all her ammo – his ammo – to protect them.
Fought her way over dead bodies and broken bones and fire, fire, fire.
Fought her way to get to Alex Danvers.
To get home.
Home, which tastes like Alex’s lips and smells like Alex’s body lotion.
Home, which feels like the embrace of Alex’s arms and sounds like Alex’s voice.
Home, which is… Alex.
But too soon, too soon, she and James compare notes on the streets outside.
Too soon, they look into each other’s eyes and know that they’ll burst if they can’t get back out there.
She knows Alex must be bursting, too.
She knows Alex thinks Maggie would be better suited to the whole command thing than she is.
She knows Alex is wrong, because she is expendable.
Alex is not.
So she draws her in for a long, heated kiss – a long, heated kiss punctuated with I love you, with be safe, with I’ll see you soon, with we’ll name her Gertrude – and she sets back into the streets with Guardian.
A man she’d been told to hunt.
A man who’s now one of the closest friends she’s ever had.
A man who’s now watching her back as she sprints out of the alleyway, across the street, because there’s a teenager, alone, terrified, trying to fight.
Maggie fights for them. James points them in the direction of safety.
They pull Maggie into a random hug. Maggie holds her glock out to the side so he doesn’t accidentally set it off. She hugs him back with one arm.
James watches her as the kid retreats, safely, safely, safely.
“I don’t like you being out here with only that little gun,” he tells her.
“I don’t like you being out here with only that little armor,” she retorts, and she hears him chuckle even as he slams his shield down in front of her, blocking a blast of Daxamite bullets.
“I owe you, Guardian,” she shouts as they fight back to back, Maggie immediately assessing the weaknesses in Daxamite armor, the soft spots, the spots she won’t shatter her bones trying to hit.
She hears it before he does: a Daxamite weapon reloading.
She throws herself into his body, and they both tumble onto the ground.
The heat of fire passes over their heads, and James grunts as he slams his shield into the helmet of the soldier Maggie’d just saved him from.
“I think we’re square now,” he shouts, and she grins briefly before sobering.
“We need to get to the school, James,” she calls to him, and he nods once, and she leads the way.
They find the kids from National City Elementary huddled in an inadequately protected lunchroom, and Maggie helps the teachers carry the most scared, the most injured, with one arm while she helps James shoot with the other.
She murmurs soothing words to the six year old clinging to her hip, to her chest, to her shoulders, telling them to close their eyes, not to look, even as she rotates over her other shoulder and shoots, shoots, shoots.
She clicks out of ammo and her body, not her bullets, become the children’s shield as she shepherds them into a safer bunker across the street, as James and the suit Winn made him pull overtime, absorbing bullets and discharging lead dust.
Only once does she lose sight of him, and it’s one of the most terrifying moments of her life.
She sets down the children – all safe now, all safe – and she screams his name, praying, praying, not to find him on the ground, not to find him somehow bleeding underneath all that armor.
And sure enough, he’s on his knees.
Conscious, awake. Alive.
But on his knees.
Images of Alex floating in that tank shriek into her brain, and she sees red.
She doesn’t know where she gets the shotgun from – she doesn’t look which dead comrade she’s picking it off from this time – she just knows that she’s hoisting it, cocking, shooting.
Once, twice, three, four times.
Enough to get the two Daxamite soldiers that had forced James onto his knees onto theirs.
“Winn was right,” James breathes by way of thank you.
“About what?” Maggie asks, breathless and bruised.
“Alex Danvers would never date someone who doesn’t own a firearm. Or how to use whatever she finds on the street.”
“Alex Danvers is a classy woman,” Maggie counters with a grin as they set off down the street at a jog, sticking to the shadows and looking for the next group to rescue.
James will tell everyone later – when the dust settles, when the bodies are buried, when the survivors have hugged and kissed and cried – that he and Maggie made a great team.
Alex’s eyes will shine and she’ll brag for weeks to anyone who’ll listen about how her girlfriend can keep up with a superhero in a war zone.
Pam in HR has never been more irritated with her; she has enough paperwork to file without the triplicate forms securing James Olsen’s confidential “secret” identity that are suddenly flooding her office.
But at least, she thinks, her team is alive for her to be irritated with.
Social support is a biological necessity, not an option, and this reality should be the backbone of all prevention and treatment. Recognizing the profound effects of trauma and deprivation on child development need not lead to blaming parents. We can assume that parents do the best they can, but all parents need help to nuture their kids. Nearly every industrialized nation, with the exception of the United States, recognizes this and provides some form of guaranteed support to families.
For Easter, J’onn turned into a giant bunny thinking the
kids at the Annual National City Easter Egg Hunt would love it. He was so very
wrong. All the kids ran screaming in terror and Kara had to fly in and pretend
to defeat the “evil large demon rabbit.” Alex and Maggie managed to grab a few
pics of the kids running away. J’onn ends up horribly embarrassed, while Alex
put the pictures in the weekly DEO memo that gets sent to everyone in the
department. She ended up having to do the graveyard guard shift at the DEO for
a month. It was totally worth it.
Note: List does not include all the parallels, just some with with enough parallels for me to notice a general theme (that I could actually describe), or to notice a theme that was important to the plot.Also,
Aang/Avatar Roku - I can probably stand to add a few more posts here, but we got that Roku/Sozin being Aang/Zuko in reverse thing going on with the Aang/Roku parallels
Dear Archy, do you have any tips/trick to take good photos/to get better understanding when doing field trip? When i went to see museum or cool buildings i just feel clueless of what i should see/pay attention to... thank you!!
One trick and one trick only, get on the mind frame of a child seeing the world for the first time. What would you photograph? What would you pay attention to?
Sam wants to go to Disneyland. Dad and Dean have other plans.
A/N: This is my entry for the @asksamstuff contest, based on this post. As always, thanks to @themegalosaurus for putting up with me and helping me get this in posting shape.
It’s about the time Dean plugs Guns N’ Roses into the tape deck again that Sam decides he’s pretty much done with California. They’ve been on the road for hours through the desert, nothing around them except scrubby brushland and distant mountains. Everything is brown and dry and dead. The sun through the window feels hot enough to melt skin. Every once in a while Dad grumbles about “goddamn hippie drivers,” and Dean keeps craning his neck to look out the window at girls driving sports cars.
In the backseat, Sam picks at a hole in the knee of his jeans. He’s grown another inch in the past few months and the pants—thrift-store bought—are too short in the ankle again. His shirt, a hand-me-down from Dean, is baggy on him, but still sticks to his back and underarms with sweat, heavy and uncomfortable. There’s a sliver of shadow slanting across the seat and Sam tries to find shelter in it, but even with the windows rolled down the July heat is sweltering, and the leather seats are hot to the touch. Sam can feel his heartbeat in his sweaty palms.
The opening chords of “Paradise City” blast through the speakers too loud for comfort, and Sam announces, “I have to pee.”
Shoutout to all the trans and nonbinary kids out there! I hope that today you are feeling loved and appreciated in your lives and that good things are happening for you! I hope you grow up in a world that appreciates how wonderful and lovely you are and that gives you all the amazing possibilities you deserve!
Shoutout to all the pets out there! Woof woof! You are a cat! Yes you are! I’m going to kiss you on the nose, please don’t claw my face!!